


"Stilinski & Hale, Attorneys"

by write_light



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Lawyers, Fluff and Crack, Lawyer Derek Hale, Lawyer Stiles Stilinski, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-20
Updated: 2017-03-20
Packaged: 2018-10-08 07:38:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 975
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10381773
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/write_light/pseuds/write_light
Summary: AU where Stiles is the very unscrupulous corporate lawyer and Derek is the fiercely righteous prosecutor who finds Stiles inexplicably appealing – and yet their biggest problem is not that cocktail party incident, but whose name goes first on the door of their new law office.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Lawyer AU, clearly. Werewolves are a known thing; some have a soft spot for underdogs but also like bad boys who talk too much. Stiles' mouth gets him in trouble in so many ways. Implied public-ish sex.

  
  
PRESENT DAY  
  
  
Reggie from _SignsFast_ would have such a story for the lunch room crowd.  
  
"There are the Helpers, ya know?" was how he'd start. "And there are the Straighteners, gettin' their greasy fingers all over the decals. But the worst—?"  
  
He would pause, just long enough for someone to respond.  
  
"Oh man, no, you got a Changer?" Abdel would say.  
  
"Worse."  
  
There'd be stunned silence as his coworkers imagined their worst customer, and then Reggie would say: "You ever heard of a Stiles?"  
  
"I think it would be better if it said Hale first," Stiles repeated, cutting into Reggie's fantasy.  
  
_If I wait, just a second…_ Reggie thought, fighting to keep his face blank.  
  
"No, I got that win last month, I did the legwork. My name goes first."  
  
_Tick, tock, loverboy._  
  
"But he'd like it. I want him to like it."  
  
***  
  
ONE YEAR EARLIER, A MONDAY  
  
  
"Derek Hale? I have to work with _him?_ " Stiles was the opposite of dumbfounded – surprises, nasty ones especially, made him talk twice as much, twice as fast. "He thinks he's this aggressive, high-powered trial lawyer out for corporate blood. He puts the bite in the wolf stereotype."  
  
"You mean the shark stereotype?" asked one partner.  
  
"Shark, wolf, same thing. Point is he's a do-gooder." Stiles was pacing now. "He won't give me the time of day, let alone cooperate on this case."  
  
"If you want to make partner, do this," said the other.  
  
Stiles wasn't through venting, but the meeting was over and the door was closing behind him; his assistant took the brunt of his words now.  
  
"Derek Hale fights for Good – once he gets his jaws on something, he never lets go and he never loses."  
  
"You've never lost either, sir. Not once. It's why I asked to clerk for you."  
  
Flattery calmed Stiles, but there'd be months and months of close-quarters work with a man he'd spoken to just one time, one little conversation, at one cocktail party…. He still couldn't forget it – not because Derek Hale was ridiculously good-looking or had stood oddly close to Stiles to make his point, but because after barely two sentences, Stiles had conceded defeat.  Stiles had lost that argument, spectacularly.  
  
"But I can't lose," Stiles insisted, out loud.  
  
"No sir," his assistant replied.  
  
"What?"  
  
***  
  
"Stiles Stilinski? That sleaze?"  
  
"We need our best man on it, Hale.  That's you."  
  
"A brilliant sleaze," Derek roared on, "but the clients he defends should be serving time. They're just lucky he never loses. He could talk anyone out of a conviction, sway any jury with that mouth of his—" _He could probably even talk me into…._ "We're sharing a case?!"  
  
"Partner with him. It's a criminal case, heavy tax implications either way.  Settle quickly; get the mayor off our backs."  
  
***  
  
THE FRIDAY BEFORE THAT MONDAY  
  
  
Stiles had a whiskey rocks in one hand while the other jabbed at Derek; he was really too high up and too drunk to not have one hand on the balcony railing.  
  
"You have no idea what werewolves even are," Stiles said too loudly, making the point with his finger, while noting how firm the muscles felt, how _warm_ Derek was even in the cool night far above downtown Los Angeles.  
  
"Oh, I don't, huh?" Derek retorted.  
  
Derek was not given to retorts. It wasn't the booze, it was this – this _charlatan_ poking his chest, making fun of his _pro bono_ work, reeking of the cheap cologne his clients bathed in, and standing not three inches away, eyes locked on Derek's.  
  
"I know more than _you_ about werewolves," Stiles said with a cocky grin.  
  
Derek could see the trap now, closing around Stiles' long, muscular neck.  
  
"I bet you don't and the loser has to blow me," Derek blurted.  
  
That might have been the booze. Or those lips, just inches away. His eyes drifted down again and again.  
  
"What?" came the tiny voice and Stiles' mouth closed, finally.  
  
Derek's eyes flashed bright blue and he watched Stiles looking back and forth from eye to eye in disbelief, watched him _lose_. Stiles' face showed both his uncertainty about what he'd heard and certainty about what he hoped he'd heard.  
  
He was far less concerned that he was alone on a balcony with a werewolf than with his utter ignorance of the fact that Derek Hale was one.  
  
"Fine but we don’t talk about it and we don't talk to each other ever again. It's a big enough town," Stiles said.  
  
Halfway through, Stiles caught sight of the full moon rising. He worked faster.  
  
***  
  
PRESENT DAY  
  
  
"Sir," Reggie interrupted, "you filed legal papers to start this company? Put the names up exactly that way. I can always come back." _Never coming back._  
  
"Right, right," Stiles said, squinting, rethinking the name order yet again. "Put up what we asked for. He'll have to live with it."  
  
Derek came in at 11:30, completely ignored their names in large black-outlined gold: _Stilinski & Hale, Attorneys_, and kissed Stiles. When they finally stopped kissing, he held out a folder.  
  
"Our first case." He saw the disappointment as Stiles scanned the brief, then the eye-rolling – Derek's mouth twitched up in a half-smile. Finally growing intrigue lit Stiles' face, dollar signs in his eyes if he were a cartoon.  
  
"This operation – buys _already donated_ shoes _away from_ orphans? And sells them back to unwitting Angelenos at a 500% markup?  
  
"Awful people doing awful things, and yet not technically illegal."  
  
"Despicably noble."  
  
"I thought you'd like it."  
  
"I love it!" Stiles grinned. "But— we'd be on opposite sides. You can't _not_ take this case though – the pathetic, bleeding-heart whistle-blower trying to stop entrepreneurs – it's made for you. And me!"  
  
"Happy anniversary."  
  
_Will this case drag out for years, Stiles and Derek arguing fiercely at each other, day after day?  Was that their strategy all along?_


End file.
